


Played by the devil

by unwashedsouls



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, Fantasy, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwashedsouls/pseuds/unwashedsouls
Summary: A medieval mage, Sasori, bored and frustrated with the indoctrinated world, decides to summon the devil himself. After the successful ritual, not everything goes as expected.
Relationships: Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage/Sasori
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Played by the devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puchacz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puchacz/gifts).



The dimly lighted room was like a place out of time, a place to thrive without consequence, shielded from obstructive eyes and forks of the foolish and rudimentary. The walls were covered with weaponry, honed knives, and senbons able to break through opponents' skin effortlessly, injecting the poison at the briefest of contacts. All the mage needed were his supplies and a bed; the rest was dedicated to his art itself. The dolls with their ivory eyeballs and teeth, the metal in the place of the joints, and the emptiness in the place of their hearts.

Sasori mounded the summoning circles with iron filings he had collected scrupulously. The metallic smell irritated his nostrils, the particles of iron stuck to his hands as he lay them on his crossed ankles, entirely focused on luring the one he found capable of answering his wish.

His iron-dirtied hands suddenly heavy and impossible to be separated, while the particles, previously on the floor, were dancing and spiraling in the air. Sasori barely resisted closing his eyes shut, so none of the filings will get into them; yet he didn't want to show any fear to the being he has been summoning. The devil he was invocating wasn't fond of the weak; but neither was he.

Sasori bit his teeth and felt his jaw clench in growing impatience.

Soon, even the heaviest of the weapons and iron instruments he possessed were swirling in the air above his head, floating dangerously close to his eyes and vital points. His puppets’ joints and jaws began to cackle. Yet, he remained calm and concentrated on his task. Some filings had come in contact with the candles he had lit up, glowing bright yellow-orange and throwing off small showers of sparks.

He didn't blink an eye when sharp pikes fell next to his legs, almost piercing his feet to the ground he sat on.

"I know you are curious," he spoke into the seemingly empty room, " _San._ "

With a direct call of his name, the demon finally materialized. The sharp glare of golden-yellow eyes concentrated on Sasori.

"So, Sasori of the Red Sand, what is your reason for calling _me_?"

The devil took the form of a tall and handsome man, with features as sharp as Sasori's whole arsenal combined. With his posture, he reminded Sasori more of a god of war than a horned, multi-faced beast the priests always warned about.

Of course, San knew his name; he wouldn't expect any less of a being this powerful.

"My wish is fairly simple, my Lord." Sasori lifted himself as soon as the power of the magnetic field lessened. The mage spoke without a hint of fear nor submission, something that made the devil open his eyes just a little bit wider and his brows furrow slightly. "I want an immortal body and spirit."

The iron in the room spun again - sharp pikes, knives, and syringes pointing at smaller man's vital points. Still, Sasori’s grayish-brown eyes remained indifferent, not a single drop of sweat falling from his proud forehead, covered with hair as red as the blood-soaked sand.

"And what shall I get in return, as you openly deny me your soul?" the devil asks, weaponry hovering over Sasori suggestively. The iron filings stopped swirling in the air if it was any indication of the demon's intentions towards him.

"If you know my name, my Lord, you also know where it came from," half-lidded eyes stared openly back into San's, "thereby, you should also be able to imagine how many other souls I can provide in exchange."

Indeed, the devil knew the origin of Sasori's name. What was infuriating was the mage's attitude; he spoke to him as to his equal, even with demand this vain. 

San couldn't deny his interest in the other, his guts, and his _being_ ; the weaponry finally fell to the cold floor of Sasori's hideout, making some insects and spiders rise and flee in fear. 

A smirk broke into San's face. "Ask, and you shall receive."

______________________________________________________________

From that point on, San became a frequent visitor to Sasori's small hideout, watching him work and grow his collection of human puppets, studying stolen scrolls and resources, extracting the deadliest of poisons. The devil's eyes followed the mage's movements with utmost fascination; messed up fiery hair and dreamy eyes, swift fingers, and curved back. Their deal had resulted in a harvest so bloody, the other demons asked about what he had done to achieve it; the mere thought of it made San smirk and scoff - never had he made a deal this fruitful, and he made aplenty.

"Why would you ask for immortality instead of an army of human puppets right away? Is it your dream to make the world your theatre?" he asks one night, long legs crossed on top of each other, face supported onto his palm. The devil floated in the air, as if sitting on the invisible throne, the particles of iron swirling around him.

From all of the people who summoned him before, Sasori was indeed special; he has never responded to the invocations of the weak, but even the strong and powerful always demanded some kind of shortcut. He had granted the wishes for thrones, riches, and victorious wars, and he claimed summoner souls as soon as they died; the naiveness of humankind knew no limits. The willingness to sacrifice their own souls for what they assumed will lead to happiness made San laugh. Life was so short; but hellfire, eternal. 

Sasori scoffed without raising his head, bent over the dead body displayed on the table, examining the damage, and preparing for the blood draining process. "Why would I want that? I would deny myself of the process of creation," his eyes flitted towards San, forehead stained in the blood where he had pushed his fringe out of the way. "I became art myself, but being able to create is my goal. Both wouldn't be possible without immortality. Asking for the immortal body _and_ an army would reduce my art to a mundane, logistic task I'd despise." he stretched out his neck, fingers massaging a spot where his shoulder and neck connected, leaving one more red stain on the ivory skin.

San watched that spot with interest.

"So it's the immortality that makes you _art_?" he asked, tilting his head, the corner of his mouth rising, "so it was _beauty_ you were after? Why not call it by its name?"

Sasori's brows furrowed at San's remark, clicking his tongue at the shameful simplification "Does anything besides art matter, in the end?" he moved to install the drain, leading it all the way out of his hideout, "The frailness of the human body is the ultimate obstacle. It limits the progress and suppresses ambitions," San could see Sasori's hands gripping on the parts of the sewer with more strength than necessary, "humanity won't achieve anything worth a dime without time, and I asked for all of it. I can stand the test of time, and so can my creations, free of the fleeting, pointless endeavors which leave naught but emptiness."

The devil nodded in understanding, the smirk still present on his face. _What made you hate your own kind so much, Sasori?_ he thought. "You are really a man ahead of your times, Sasori," San shook his head in recognition, "So, one can say I dotted the _i_ in your _beautiful_?"

"Absolutely not." The mage finally finished putting up the sewer and made his way back to the body on the table, "It was my request you just happened to fulfill. If you are going to bother me, find something else to do. _Do all devils bother their summoners like this_?" He mumbled under his breath, back once again bent over the body on the table, swift hands incising it in the right places.

"We bother only those which we really like," San answered with a wink, standing up and brushing off the dust from his clothing before he disappeared, leaving Sasori blushing furiously.

San noticed it only briefly, bursting into laughter as soon as he was alone. Sasori was indeed beautiful; angelic face and petite features so fascinatingly deceptive, as its bearer was always emitting the enchanting aura of pride and strength. He was the first human the devil deemed rightfully prideful, even vain. He wondered whether Sasori wasn’t a fallen angel himself.

______________________________________________________________

The sun was beginning to rise, and the first rays made the cobwebs in his hideout shine. 

Sasori didn't need to sleep anymore, but he found himself lying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, trying to occupy his thoughts with the lacework of the spider, wishing he could turn off his mind entirely for a few hours at least. His mind was racing in an attempt to analyze the unfamiliar heat on his face; the heat not caused by the warmth of the sun nor wrath, well-known to him.

San was attractive, and he would deem him that even without his immortal body and power. The mage thought of the piercing eyes and majestic presence, clear memories of the tall posture and long fingers of the demon appearing before his eyes whenever he closed them for just a second.

He barely remembered the last time he viewed someone as something more than a resource or obstacle in his way. San was supposed to fulfill his request. Provide him means. Aid him in becoming art—nothing else.

______________________________________________________________

Soon, San revisited him.

"What they say about the intercourse with the devil making the mage more powerful… is it true?" Sasori asked, bent over another stolen scroll; this time, he was studying some forbidden spells.

San stared at the other wide-eyed for a brief moment before bursting into hysterics, to the point that the devil himself almost fell from the chair. After the fit of laughter finally passed enough for him to form sentences, he asked, "Do you seriously prefer to play the fool than admit your attraction towards me?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Sasori said, far too quickly for it to be true, "I'm asking out of sheer curiosity." He closed the scroll he was examining and picked it up, "also, the contents of this scroll are far too vague. I need another one, and it's hidden in a strictly guarded place. My mind-controlling spells are way too basic to find a proper way to get there."

"Is that so?" San regained his posture completely, throwing one leg on top of the other "If you are even willing to call your techniques basic… then yes, it is true."

"Are there… any downsides? To intercourse." The mage's eyes lowered, seemingly focused on an object in his hand.

"No, of course." Then San smacked his forehead as if reminding himself of the obvious, "Oh wait, yes. My seed is cold."

**Author's Note:**

> SO, I LIED. Puchacz, you were my giftee all along. I absolutely loved the prompt, but of course, the first thing I did was panic, lmao. How was I supposed to write anything decent without my trusty beta reader and friend? But here I am, with fic hopefully tailored to your liking! 
> 
> You are one of the reasons why 2020 wasn't that shitty for me (I met you!) and why I'm glad I got back to the fandom and writing. I love you a lot and hope you will have a happy new year! 
> 
> Thanks a lot to Jomai, Pho, and Kitty for hyping me up and beta-ying the fic!


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